


untitled

by poppyanemone



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-02 17:09:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8675734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poppyanemone/pseuds/poppyanemone
Summary: Neither can have what they want. There is no comfort in being a consolation prize.





	

There had been little discussion beforehand where this could lead. It is quick and painless like most things usually tend to be. Hushed whispers in the corner of a café turn into a hesitant embrace, cautious and wary of their surroundings. A hand upon a waist, wandering lower onto thighs, in-between legs. The weighted tension forces them to leave. They both know they can’t continue in their current venue. Anticipation rushes them elsewhere; eager to be closer to another person heightens the former. The beginning is effortless. This part is easy.

Tsukiyama hovers over Hide, trickling his fingertips up his torso and across the canvas that is his chest. He doesn’t have to say much because the other is already speaking, babbling endlessly about how good he feels. Encouraging to know his lack of experience doesn’t make much of a difference. He never believes he could share intimacy like this with someone else. The most he knows is how to be a predator in a room full of people, seduce with intention of consuming. Physical contact of this kind had never mattered before Hide. Sex was never an act to make him think twice. It had never mattered then or before now, but Tsukiyama wants it to be something more. He wants it to mean something at least once in his life.

Blond is scattered across pillows, limbs are spread out over wrinkled sheets. Hide’s hand tighten around Tsukiyama’s own until his knuckles bear white. It is something that should hurt, make him wince at the unintentional attempt to break fingers and shatter bones. But it doesn’t. There are a lot of things Hide does that doesn’t hurt. Perhaps that was why Tsukiyama keeps returning to him, craving this unidentifiable concept of more, unknowing to what it was he honestly wants. Companionship, sex, love, the sensation of bare skin rutting against the same. Everything muddles together in a haze.

“Tsukiyama-san,” Hide whines. Sweat covers his body, prickling down in patterns, following the heavy rise and fall of his breathing. It is a sight that leaves Tsukiyama fascinated, consciously watching and feeding off the symphony of sounds leaving Hide’s abused mouth. Red decorates his lips from overuse. A ring of purple around his neck. Bruises around his hips. Both had been needy in their attempts to rush, frantically allowing their mouths to seek out any form of contact, biting and unrelenting to stop. Loneliness makes them desperate but not foolish. Tsukiyama knows what he is getting into when it comes to Hide, taking Kaneki’s best friend to bed.

Kaneki is the only thing to bind them together. One of their very few mutual interests, yet Tsukiyama has considered Kaneki an obsession for so long he might as well be an object to him. He is a piece of work that he uses to fuel something he cannot define. For Hide, he knows Kaneki means a lot more than that. He sees it in the way he mentions his name, recalls a memory. Hide holds Kaneki with reverence on tongue. He talks of him as though he is dead, speaking in past tense and stumbling on details as if he can no longer remember or doesn’t feel compelled to share with Tsukiyama. It stirs a bitter jealousy inside to know it is something Tsukiyama will never be able to have. They want what the other possesses. Hide will always have Kaneki’s past; Tsukiyama holds his future.

Long fingers curl, stretching tight muscle and delving deeper inside Hide. Tsukiyama’s knuckles disappear and bury into his entrance. Neither of them have done this before. It is obvious from how Hide shudders and winces when another finger is added. It is even more obvious in how Tsukiyama is careful to the point of being too much, too concerned in the way he sets an agonizingly slow pace. He already wants more than this. To continue beyond what either of them has done. Somehow, that is frightening to Tsukiyama. He has never been this close or vulnerable to someone. He assumes he can say the same for Hide. Mostly because he wants to believe it; being someone’s sloppy seconds isn’t a phrase to belong in the same sentence as Tsukiyama Shuu.

Honey reaches amethyst; sickeningly sweet as expression shifts from the undeniable lust to a coy smirk. It was one Tsukiyama had seen on more than one occasion upon Hide’s features. The blond wears it well whether he knows it or not. Tsukiyama would think Hide is more aware than he is given credit, considering how often he plays at the ghoul’s emotions to get what he wants. The Gourmet is a master of manipulation and deceit - Hide gives him a run for his money. It is ultimately funny and unfair, but Tsukiyama isn’t in a position to complain. He enjoys the challenge, the thrill of the chase.

Dark lashes flutter at a sudden warmth lacing around his wrist, Hide’s fingers wrapping tightly and coaxing Tsukiyama’s hand to move. “M-More,” Hide pleads, discontent with Tsukiyama’s stilled movements, his hips rutting desperately against the other for friction, “Are you getting cold feet? Geez, get on with it... I don’t want to wait any longer.” Impatience carries anxiety, heavy and swallowing him whole as Tsukiyama denies Hide and pulls away completely. He wants to savor and worship every part of Hide, how he would have if Hide were Kaneki, but the comparison makes Tsukiyama’s chest tighten at the sudden realization. Hide isn’t Kaneki. He is his best friend, a consolation prize for what Tsukiyama truly desires.

It makes him sick to his stomach.

“Tell me, Hideyoshi…” Tsukiyama starts, forces himself to speak despite the disappointed expression capturing the younger’s face. “What does this mean to you?” The posed question lingers between them, unanswered as if there is no definition for it. Maybe there isn’t though. Tsukiyama spends a large majority of his time throwing people away when they have overstayed their welcome and no longer serve him any benefit. He isn’t prone to being on the receiving end of such unsavory sentiments.  
“Does it have to mean anything?” There is laughter, bright and boisterous as usual. Under different circumstances, Tsukiyama would have smiled at the sound of Hide laughing. It only sours his features, twisting his lips into a grimace. He isn’t prepared to listen to what Hide has to say, but he never truly is. Hide talks more than anything else Tsukiyama has ever known. It is a quality he both hates and loves at the same time.

“This is just sex, Tsukiyama-san. It doesn’t have to mean anything. You didn’t think that… Did you think we were - ”

Saying ‘yes’ would only further his embarrassment, so Tsukiyama chooses to keep his reply to himself. He doesn’t have to say for Hide to know; it is written all over his face. The way his jaw clenches, how he exhales quietly and his body slides to the edge of the bed, putting distance between them -- They are all telltale signs, unreadable to anyone else, but Hide is far too perceptive to cast aside each detail as if it means nothing. It shows in the blonde’s slow, hesitant movements, inching closer to Tsukiyama in an effort to console him, following wordlessly as he had done whenever Kaneki couldn’t muster the courage to express himself.

Hide isn’t insensitive. He knows when someone is hurting, when he is at fault for doing so. Wetting his lips, hands reach out for Tsukiyama, idly running fingertips across bare skin. A comforting touch might have been enough to sate anyone else, but Tsukiyama pulls away, flinches and stares in disbelief. Pity isn’t what he wants, what he wants he can’t have. Neither of them truly ever could. “If you want, you can close your eyes and think of someone else,” Hide says, a poorly made joke as he laughs again, trying to ease the ruined atmosphere. It is the wrong thing to say. It brings forth a broken sound from Tsukiyama, wet and muffled from the back of his hand. He can’t think of anyone else even if he tried. Kaneki and Hide… They are different yet similar in their mannerisms. He wants them both despite being unable to possess at least one of the two. His body trembles and he shakes his head, rejecting Hide’s second attempt to console him when he moves closer.

“I can’t,” Tsukiyama whispers through gritted teeth, in-between a shuddering breath, “I shouldn’t have to think of someone else.”

**Author's Note:**

> the first half was written a year ago, the rest was finished a year later.  
> that's probably why it is such dookie doo. ;A;  
> written for solusarae on tumblr. she likes when tsukiyama cries, so here you go.  
> i love you, ly.  
> kinda.


End file.
